


hold my hand (to see right through me)

by thestartoftime



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Multi, also im sorry but malia is the mean girl cry me a river, beacon hills isn't supernatural in this fic, nerd!lydia, popular!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-11 22:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2085291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestartoftime/pseuds/thestartoftime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia Martin is a nerd, a loser, and an outcast. Stiles Stilinski is the student body president, funny, and popular. <br/>they're too different to ever get along, but when their best friends start falling in love, they might accidentally do the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is gonna be a multi chapter fic written in at least 10 installments. Please let me know your opinions, and you can request fics from me at katherlnepierce.tumblr.com

The Fields Medal. 

Lydia sees it in her dreams, sparkling behind her closed eyelids as she lays in bed, wrapped in blankets that protect her from her empty home.

She recites it in her mind every time she’s picked last for gym in elementary, whispers it under her breath as she eats alone in the bathroom every day during middle school, and arms herself with it when she scrubs the words “LOSER” and “FREAK” off her locker in high school. 

One day, she knows she’ll get out of this town and away from the taunting voices of kids who never were her friends and the loneliness that pounds away in her heart. They’ll place the Fields Medal around her neck one day, and if she can just make it until then, everything will be okay. 

There are days, however, where the promise of her name in the history books just isn’t enough to help her hold it together. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Allison Argent starts at Beacon Hills High in the second month of junior year, and hasn’t been around long enough to know that befriending someone like Lydia is social suicide. Especially when you’re as pretty as Allison is, shining eyes and secret smiles, with a sweetness Lydia has never seen the likes of to match. They’re paired together as lab partners in AP Chem, since Lydia is the only one in the class with no one sharing her station. Allison is startlingly kind, and Lydia, accustomed people ignoring her, if not explicitly bullying her, is so thrown off that she forgets to hold up the armor that she’s developed, and actually makes a friend. They go to the movies, have sleepovers and study sessions that mostly involve Lydia, miles ahead of her other classmates, explaining equations to Allison. Without realizing it, she lets her in. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They’re eating lunch together weeks later and Lydia’s snorting at Allison’s impression of their history teacher when Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski sit down at their table, along with the rest of their crew. Lydia chokes on her salad and Allison has to clap her on the back several times before she can breathe again. Flushing red in a shade that rivals her hair, Lydia raises an eyebrow at Allison, silently inquiring why the most popular kids in the entire school are sitting at their table. Allison grins, gesturing to Scott sitting next to her. 

 

“We’re partners for the English project,” she says, “and we found out we have a lot in common- if you can count a mutual love of Keeping up with the Hales as common.” Allison finishes with a small smile at Scott, reserved just for him, and Lydia can see that her friend is smitten. To be honest, she sincerely doubts that Scott has ever even watched an episode of popular reality show, but she sees the bashful grin he returns Allison and softens. Scott isn’t actually that bad, as far as the popular kids go. He’s captain of the lacrosse team, and she’s tutored him for math a couple of times. Once in middle school, when Lydia tripped on the outstretched foot of Jackson Whitmore, he’d helped her up and offered her some napkins to clean herself up. She decides she approves of whatever’s blossoming between Scott and Allison, but that still doesn’t explain the rest of the kids at the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she counts them: Jackson, Erica, Isaac, Malia, and Stiles. She vaguely wonders why Jackson and Malia, who have made her life a living hell since the second grade, are anywhere near her at a time that doesn’t include a practical joke. 

 

Stiles leans over the table and extends a hand. “I’m Stiles,” he says, and Lydia takes his hand gingerly but shakes with a firm grip. “I know that,” she says quietly. How could she not? He’s their student body president and in the second grade she- Lydia cuts the memory off quick. “Are you new too?” Stiles asks, and she can’t keep her cheeks from flushing with indignation. “I’m in your math and english class, and we’ve been going to the same school since kindergarten,” she answers, her voice clipped and her eyes narrowed. 

 

Stiles blinks and looks surprised. Next to him, Malia laughs. “Don’t you remember? She’s the one who wrote you that stupid poem and gave you a dozen roses in the second grade!” Malia ends her sentence with a snort. Across the table Allison shoots her a questioning look and Scott frowns. She doesn’t bother seeing anyone else’s reaction. Jumping up, she pushes her chair back from the table with a screech. “I’ll see you in chem,” she says to Allison, then grabs her bag and flees the scene.

 

She escapes to the hall before sliding down against the lockers. Groaning in embarrassment, she’s still massaging her temples when a pair of ratty sneakers stop in front of her. It’s Stiles, and he’s holding out her chemistry textbook. “You left this,” he says, and she stands up and accepts it with a nod, turning her face away from him to stick it in her bag. Stiles shifts from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable. “Look, Malia wasn’t trying to be mean back there-” he starts, but Lydia’s stomach bubbles up with anger and she interrupts him. “Just like she wasn’t trying to be mean when she made everyone pretend I didn’t exist for two weeks in middle school? Or when she wrote on my locker in permanent marker? Your girlfriend meant it, and so do most of your friends. Jackson has asked me out as a joke twice, you know. I’m not really interested in your apology or justification.” She turns on her heel, heart thrumming in her ears as she walks angrily to class, leaving a dumbfounded Stiles in her wake. 

 

_Fields Medal, Fields Medal, Fields Medal, you don’t care and they don’t matter,_ she thinks as she all but runs away, but even to her own ears, it sounds hollow.


	2. somehow when she's around, it's like I just lose my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (✿◠‿◠)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay for chapter two!!
> 
> so I laid out my storyline and it looks like this fic is going to be at least twenty chapters. Three cheers for the pairing that makes me simultaneously want to stab someone, cry my eyes out, or squeal with happiness. 
> 
> as always, please leave kudos and comments, they keep my inspiration coming!

Stiles has always been a likable guy. It’s what got him elected class president, why all his teachers make exceptions for him, even if they do so grudgingly. his humor and sarcasm keep everyone around him laughing, just like they make his mother laugh back when he was a little boy barely big enough to see over the edge of her hospital bed. 

In fact, Stiles can’t remember the last time someone truly had not liked him, which was why Lydia Martin kept lingering in his mind. He can’t shake the way her green eyes looked at him with such intense distrust and the way she practically seethed as she walked away. 

He remembers her now, even if he didn’t at first. Last night after lacrosse practice, he pulled out his second grade year book, and found a smiling little girl with strawberry blond hair plaited into pigtails under the M’s. She sat two seats down from him in the second grade, and was always done with her work before anyone else was, especially the easily distracted Stiles. 

Stiles doesn’t like to think about it, but he does remember that Valentine’s day. Lydia had bought him a dozen roses, and left them and a handwritten poem on his desk, signed with her name in handwriting much too nice for a seven year old. He also remembers how he threw the flowers in the trash along with the poem, which the other kids fished out of there later, and that either Jackson or Malia had taunted her about it at recess- he wouldn’t know. 

All he could remember was the way the thorns of the roses dug into his tiny fists as he squeezed them as hard as he could and fought back hot tears. Roses were his mother’s favorite flower, and her funeral three weeks before then had been rife with them. When he saw the roses on his desk, it rubbed his loss in his face once again, the pain still fresh (and the thought of his mother still did hurt him- some wounds never heal, and bleed at the slightest provocation). He’d thrown them in the trash along with the poem taped neatly to the side of the bouquet, then called his father to take him home. He only found out the next day that the flowers were from Lydia, and that there had been a poem included. 

Is it possible to begin feeling guilty for something nine years after it happened?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles is slumped in his seat and chewing on his pencil eraser when Lydia walks into their math class. From the corner of his eye, he watches her sit down two seats behind him in her assigned desk, pulling out disorganized piles of paper and her textbook. 

He pulls out his phone to text Scott to ask if lacrosse practice is still on tonight. At that exact moment, Ms. Abrams enters the classroom. She has a strictly enforced no cell phone policy, and Stiles nearly falls out of his desks as he frantically scrambles to shove said phone back into his pocket. Ms. Abrams raises her eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, instead turning to write something on the board. Stiles doesn’t bother to hold back his groan as he reads what she’s written: _“Tests will be returned today. Any failing grades **must** be signed by a parent, and might be followed up with mandatory tutoring for an undetermined amount of time.”_

Stiles isn’t stupid, but he’s certainly not a conventual learner, and tests have never been his strong spot, with his ADHD and all. He’s failed the last two, and this one is his last chance to pull his grade up out of the gutter before he’s assigned a tutor. Ms. Abrams takes her time passing out the exam that will determine his fate. She sighs as he hands him his, and his heart plummets as he flips over the paper to find a bright red “D-”, with the ominous message to please stay after class. 

Stiles spends the rest of the class in a self induced panic about his grades. If he can’t manage to salvage at least a B from calculus, he’ll be kicked out of all school activities till he can pass again, not to mention how disappointed his dad will be.

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by the ringing of the bell, causing him to reluctantly pack his bag and practically drag himself to Ms. Abrams desk. 

She smiles at him warmly, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to him. “Stiles, you are extremely bright, despite what you may think. You just need some individual attention, I think.” She taps the piece of paper with her pen. “The name of your tutor is on the sheet, make sure to meet with them and find a time that works for both of you. I expect you two to meet at least twice a week.”

He nod, quiet for once in his life. On his way out of the room, M. Abrams calls out one final message that leaves Stiles trying to restrain himself from banging his head against the door. “Make sure to get your test signed by a parent!”

His dad is gonna _kill_ him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lydia Martin. His tutor is Lydia Martin, a girl who, honestly, he ~~fears~~ doesn't know what to make of due both to her intense genius and you know, the fact that she seemed to hate his guts. 

It’s the end of the day by the time he remembers to look at the sheet, which leads him on a wild chase throughout the crowded school, following a head of strawberry blond hair making it’s way out into the parking lot. “Lydia!” He calls, but she’s too far ahead to hear him. By the time he’s caught up to her, he’s practically wheezing, something that makes Lydia’s mouth flicker with something that looks like a smirk. 

“Yes?” Her tone is business like, making it clear that she doesn’t trust him and whatever he has to say better have a point to it. 

“Um, you’re my tutor for the, uh, the math thing?” He clears his throat. “I know you’re not my biggest fan- actually, that you don’t seem to like me at all, but can you please help me? I really need to pass.”

Lydia’s arms are crossed over her chest, book bag on her shoulder, but the expression on her face isn’t one of malice, but instead of deep thought. He looks down, realizing with a start that he’s at least a head taller than her.

Suddenly she whips out a palm pilot, swiping through her schedule, seeming quite efficient. “What days are you free? I recommend we meet twice a week, especially if you wanna pull your grade up to a B. Fridays and Tuesdays work for me if you’re not busy those days.”

“Y-yeah! That sounds good, because I need to pass. Because passing is good. Or else I’ll fail and my dad will probably murder me and no one will ever even find my body because he’s the sheriff so he’ll probably be really good at covering up a murder, which leads me to wonder if my body will end up scattered all over the country or buried six feet below-” he breaks off, looking at Lydia’s incredulous expression. “Sorry-” he starts, but stops again when he sees the small smile that makes its way onto her face as she looks at him. 

“I’ll let you get home now,” he says, giving her a jerky wave as he walks away, because he can’t think of what else to do. He turns to walk away, when he hears her call out after him.

“Underwater safe.” she says, and Stiles turns, confused. “That’s where your body will end up.” 

He lets out a surprised laugh and feels his face break out in a grin. “See you tomorrow, Martin.” 

“You too, Stilinski.”


	3. make sure to build your heart brick by boring brick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lovelies! thank you for your comments on the last chapter, they made me really happy. shoutout to all the wonderful reviewers, you guys are great!
> 
> in case you guys haven't noticed, every chapter title is from a song i associate with stydia. this chapter's song is brick by boring brick, by paramore. 
> 
> I'll be updating again tomorrow because I already have chapter 4 written :)
> 
> enjoy and as always, you can follow, request fics, or just talk to me at katherlnepierce.tumblr.com!

On Friday at 6:18, Lydia’s doorbell rings. 

She looks up from her work and rolls her eyes, shoving her pencil into the messy bun on top of her head. As she makes her way to the door, she passes the mirror in their foyer, and critically wonders if wearing sweat pant shorts and an oversized tshirt on a Friday night will make Stiles think that she has no life. She _does_ have no life, but that’s not exactly a fact that Lydia wants to communicate. It’s too late now, however, so she pulls open the door. 

Stiles is shifting from foot to foot on her doorstep, wearing a ratty hoody and jeans with a hole in the knee that instantly make her feel better about her own choice of attire. 

Lydia raises an eyebrow at him. “I thought we said six.” Stiles groans in response. “I know, I’m sorry. She was being cranky with me and I had to pull over halfway here and take care of her.”  
Lydia flushes, stepping backward in surprise. “ _She?_ ” Stiles’ face instantly matches the shade of red that her’s is, and starts stuttering to explain himself. “Oh! No, no, its not- I mean, no it’s-” he gestures behind him to the jeep sitting in her driveway that has seen much better days. “She is my jeep. Claudia. We had engine trouble on the way over.” Lydia nods, understanding.  
“You named your car?” Stiles’ blush deepens, and Lydia grins, pointing to hers in the driveway. “That’s Lovelace. After the mathematician.” Stiles returns her smile. “Well, I guess we’ll leave them to each other,” he says, stepping inside.

“We’re going to work in the living room, if that’s okay,” Lydia tells him, leading him through the giant maze that is her house. “This place is huge!” Stiles comments, observing the priceless artwork on the walls and high ceilings. “Huge and lonely,” Lydia responds, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. Miraculously, Stiles has enough tact not to continue that path of the conversation. 

“You can set your stuff down there,” she says, gesturing to the coffee table in the living room. “I thought that we could work on this weekend’s homework to see where you stand with your understanding of the class.” Stiles nods and gets out his work so that they can begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later, its clear that Lydia has her work cut out for her. Stiles isn’t stupid- he’s brilliant, but his brain either figures out the problems in a way that Ms. Abrams won’t accept or gets to distracted to even start the problem.  
She’s in the middle of attempting to explain radioactive decay (which she understands perfectly, but that actually makes it harder for her to teach it), when Stiles’ stomach lets out a loud rumble. He looks at Lydia, a sheepish expression on his face. “Do you...wanna order pizza or something?” she suggests, noticing that she’s actually starving, but just had been so into the lesson that she’d pushed it out of her mind. 

Stiles’ face lights up and he whips out his phone. “I thought you’d never ask.” He proceeds to order a large cheese pizza to be delivered to Lydia’s address from the Beacon Hills Pizzeria. When he hangs up, Lydia is looking at him slightly open mouthed. “What?” he says defensively. Lydia crinkles her nose as she smiles, a habit of hers since she was little. “You realize that you do have a pizza place on speed dial, right?”

Stiles raises his hands defensively. “Hey! I’m a growing boy!” “Growing ego, you mean.” Stiles places his hands over his heart in mock offense. “You wound me, Martin.” “Get used to it, Stilinski.” she shoots back, trying and failing to hid the smile that taking over her face.  
She’s spent so much time alone all her life, too afraid to let anyone in, that she’d forgotten what it felt like to have friends. Or that is, whatever Stiles is to her. They’re not exactly friends yet, but she surprises herself with the thought that she might want to be. _I do have to tutor him for at least 6 weeks. I might as well become his friend, right?_ she tells herself, but knows there’s more to it than that. Maybe those 17 years of being lonely have taken their toll, and she doesn’t want them to claim anymore of her. 

The pizza arrives, and after Lydia tells Stiles that she will let him fail if he doesn’t let her pay for the pizza, they sit criss cross on her couch, talking about Scott and Allison around mouthfuls of gooey warm cheese.

“He is a good guy, right?” Lydia asked, taking a big bite of her second piece of the pizza. “Scott? He’s the best.” “In real life, not just by your standards?” she replies with a smirk on her face. Stiles responds by rolling his eyes at her. “Yes. He’s honestly the kindest person I’ve ever met. And are you suggesting I have low standards? I’ll have you know they are actually extremely high!” Lydia looks at him innocently. “You said it, not me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By nine, Stiles is in the middle of a story about him peeing on Scott’s sandcastle on the first day of kindergarten when the doorbell rings. Lydia looks up, surprised. Allison is at an archery competition with her dad this weekend and her mom is away on a business trip, besides those two people, there’s not really anyone else who would be ringing her door at nine on a Friday. 

Giving Stiles a confused look, Lydia stands up. “I’m going to go answer the door, I’ll be right back.” 

She cuts through the dining room and the kitchen to get there faster, but when she sees a blurry silhouette that she knows much too well at her door, she wants to turn and bolt. 

Lydia opens the door, her face a mask of stone. “Malia. What a surprise. How can I help you?” Her tone is annoyed, and she keeps the door half closed to let Malia know that she’s not welcome in her home. 

“Lydia! Great to see you.” Malia’s voice is mocking. Her eyes rake down Lydia, taking in her sweatpants and old tshirt in a way that makes Lydia feel ashamed. “Love your outfit. I feel like it really summarizes the fact you’ve been spending every Friday night you can remember alone.”

Lydia grits her teeth. “What do you want Malia?” The other girl scoffs at Lydia. “I’m here to find my boyfriend. I figured he’d done enough charity work for one evening.”  
Lydia gives Malia the fakest smile she can muster. “Of course. I’ll go get him.” Malia makes to step inside, but Lydia holds up a hand.  
“I said I would go get him. You can wait here.” She turns and begins walking away, but thinks better of it, turning back to Malia. “I’ll only be a minute.” she says, and slams the door as hard as she can in Malia’s face.

It’s easier to stand up to Malia in her own home, a place where Malia is the one that doesn’t belong. If only it were that easy at school, or anywhere else. 

She makes her way back to the living room, and finds Stiles eating the last slice of pizza. “You have to go,” she says, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. Stiles frowns and gestures to his papers. “Why? I still have some questions and I’m actually not having a bad time-” “Your girlfriend is waiting for you outside.” Lydia interrupts him, her face stiff. Stiles nods and packs up his things before heading for the door. 

“Bye. See you at lunch tomorrow? Scott wants to eat with Allison again.” He says, standing in the doorway of the living room.  
“I’ll be there,” Lydia answers, tight lipped. 

She sits on the couch with her hands clasped in her lap, hears Stiles greet Malia at the door and the rumbling engine of his jeep as they drive away.

And suddenly its like every Friday night she’s ever known, once again.


	4. those hardest to love need it most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (=^_^=)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my lovely readers! 
> 
> here is chapter four, and i'm gonna try to have five up tomorrow if I have time. 
> 
> all the awesome comments i've been getting on this story make me extremely happy and motivate me to write quicker, so that you so much darlings!
> 
> the chapter title comes from the song "Fools" by Lauren Aquilina 
> 
> as always, read, review, and find me at katherlnepierce.tumblr.com!

Lydia is pulling textbooks from her locker when Allison bounces up to her, eyes shining and a smile that stretches from ear to ear on her face. Lydia breaks into a smile to match Allison’s and nudges her best friend with an elbow. 

“Something has you excited,” Lydia remarks, closing her locker and twirling the combination. “What’s up?”

Allison clasps her hands together, practically bouncing up and down. “So I have good news and bad news,” Ally starts, but her huge grin tells Lydia that even the bad news can’t be that bad. 

“Do tell,” she says, turning and walking down the hall as Allison follows beside her.

“Okay, the good news is that Scott told me he liked me, and asked to take me out on Saturday.”

Lydia turned around, stopping dead in the middle of the hall before grabbing her best friend’s arm to drag her out of the center of the busy hallway. “Allison Argent! You better have a good reason for not calling and telling me this.”

Ally sighed. “That’s where the bad news comes in. My dad has a gun show in LA on Saturday and I already promised I would go.”

“Well, you’re canceling on your dad. He can handle not having you at one gun show, right?” 

Bringing her hands up to her temples, Allison massaged her forehead. “He’ll want to know why I’m canceling, and then he definitely won’t let me stay.”

Lydia grit her teeth, grabbing Allison’s hand and squeezing it. “Leave that part to me, okay? I’ll tell you the plan the moment I figure it out. In the meantime, tell Scott yes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dude, you what?!”

Stiles yelled, gapping open mouthed at Scott as they got dressed for lacrosse practice. 

“I asked her out. And she just texted back yes, with three heart emojis!” The smile on Scott’s face would put a litter of puppies to shame, and Stiles laughed. 

“Why didn’t she say yes before now? Didn’t you say you asked her out last night?” Stiles inquired, curious.

Scott shrugged his shoulders, too happy to care about minor details. “She had something with her dad but apparently Lydia promised to find a way to take care of it.” 

Stiles smirked a million ideas rushing through his mind. “Tell Allison to tell Lydia not to worry. I’ll take care of it.”

Scott hesitated. He was all to used to Stiles’ intricate plans getting him in trouble, and almost asked him to just let Lydia take care of it. Somehow though, he found his fingers typing out the text message Stiles told him to write.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“STILES STILINSKI, YOU GODDAMN LITTLE _BASTARD_!”

For once in her life, people scrambled to move out of Lydia’s way as she practically blazed a path towards where ever a very unfortunate Stiles was hiding, pieces of strawberry blond hair flying around her face.

Without hesitating, she practically kicked open the door to the boy’s locker room, prompting several unmanly screams as boys scrambled to get out of her way or cover up their naked bodies. Lydia whipped around and pointed at the nearest lacrosse player, causing him to flinch. “Where. is. Stiles.” she asked, arms crossed over her chest. The boy gestured over to the general direction of Stiles’ locker before turning around to mind his own business. 

Stiles had earbuds in his ears, jamming out to a New Politics song, when a hand reached out and slammed his locker shut. Ripping out his earphones, he looked down to see an irate Lydia Martin looking up at him with crossed arms and a tapping foot. Desperately, he looked around to make sure there were witnesses before speaking. 

“Martin! What a lovely surprise. Except, maybe you could come back when I’m wearing more than a towel?”

Lydia took a deep breath, before whisper-yelling at Stiles’ as loud as she could without the prying ears of the lacrosse team listening in. 

“No! No I can’t, because you told Allison to tell her parents that her and Scott had to chaperone our date?! _OUR DATE?!_ ” Her voice yelled the last word before reverting back to an angry whisper. ‘Excuse me, are you not aware of who your girlfriend is? Because I sure as hell am! Malia once poured a bottle of glue on my head for using her pink crayon in 3rd grade art class. If I had to pick dried glue out of my hair for an entire night for borrowing some fucking crayon, what do you think is gonna happen to me if I “borrow” her boyfriend?!”

Stiles is surprised to see the tears welling up in her eyes, and a wave of guilt washes over him, along with a drumbeat of anger towards Malia.   
How could he have gone eight years without seeing the bullying Lydia had suffered at the hands of some of the people closest to him? Is he that blind, or did he see it at some point and pretend he didn’t? Frankly, he’s not sure which one is worse.

“Hey, hey. It’s- uh, it’s gonna be okay.” Stiles is bad at girls, and even worse at upset girls. Looking up, he sees the whole locker room covertly watching them out of the corner of their eyes. Taking Lydia’s hand, he drags her into a shower stall and pulls the curtain closed for privacy. 

Lydia’s looking anywhere but his eyes, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks and Stiles feels sick to his stomach. When he came up with his brilliant plan, this wasn’t how he intended for it to go down. 

“Lydia,” he says, and when he sees the quick flash of her eyes looking at him, he realizes it’s the first time he’s called her Lydia and not Martin. “I only meant to be able to get Allison and Scott on a date. We’re not the ones going on the date, that’s their job. We don’t even have to go with them if you don’t want to. All we have to do is pick them up like we’re all going together, drop them off, and we can go work on tutoring somewhere, okay? I’ll pay for coffee,” he insists quietly, trying to get her to look at him again. 

She sniffles, still arms still curled protectively around her body. “And if Malia finds out?”

Stiles nods. “If Malia finds out, I’ll take care of it, okay? I’m not- I”m not gonna let her hurt you again and then pretend like nothing happened.”

Their eyes meet and something flickers between them- respect or understanding, perhaps? Lydia holds out her hand and Stiles shakes it. Her hand is much smaller than his but her grip is firm, and their eye contact doesn’t break until she leaves in a flurry of strawberry blonde hair, a small smile thrown his way as she leaves. 

When he walks back to his locker, his phone lights up with a text message, and he pulls it out to read it. 

**LYDIA:** _I like my coffee with black with three sugars. You can pick me up at eight._


	5. trying not to think about turning around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ヾ(＠⌒ー⌒＠)ノ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, another chapter! I would have updated sooner but I had auditions for an acting program I'm trying to get into. Cross your fingers for me!
> 
> the chapter title is from the song, _"Highway Don't Care"_ , for anyone who was wondering.
> 
> as always, your comments are super appreciated and motivate me to update faster!
> 
> talk to me or request things at katherlnepierce.tumblr.com!!
> 
> (also, if you are the person who sent me that request for an assassin stydia fic, I'm writing you the first chapter and I should have it done soon!)

Stiles wouldn’t ever admit it to Ms. Abrams, but tutoring, at least for him, was a good idea. Great, even. Lydia was brilliant, and she explained everything so passionately that it wasn’t boring at all. 

Okay, so maybe it was boring sometimes (it’s _calculus!_ ), but Lydia keeps turning out to more than Stiles thought she was. They’re into a lot of the same things (whoever said that high schoolers couldn’t be obsessed with Marvel superheroes was dead wrong, they both agreed), and there was always the bonus of free food whenever they got together, because try as Stiles might, Lydia never let him pay. Frankly, it was getting ridiculous. Their last studying session, she’s literally stuck out her foot and tripped Stiles so that he fell face first into her coat rack. By the time he lifted himself out of the rumble, Lydia was standing above him with the paid for pizza in her hand, with one eyebrow raised (he still needed to figure out how she did that. wasn’t it like, genetically impossible to only raise one eyebrow?!) and a small smile playing on the corners of her lips. 

He understood that she was rich, with a wealthy father whom all she saw of was the in the ridiculously large checks he sent to her each month, but he couldn’t help feel a twinge of guilt when she paid every single time, even if she has to mortally wound him to do so (her coat rack gave him a wicked bruise on his cheekbone for a week). 

He just couldn’t figure her out. As soon as he thought he had discovered something about this girl, about what made her tick, she’d do something to smash that theory to dust. Stiles was a people person, and not knowing what made Lydia herself frustrated him to no end. He’d even started keeping a list of the things she told him about herself in the back of his English journal before he realized that it made him look like a serial killer, and trashed it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles Stilinski was one of the weirdest human beings Lydia had ever encountered. 

She’d spent about eight years of her life assuming that he was another dumb jock, who became class president through pure popularity, but then he’d gone and proved her hypothesis wrong by actually being kind and funny and interesting. 

Lydia hated being wrong.

_Hypothesis: Stiles Stilinski is an dumb jock who only cares about himself._

Except he wasn’t. Sure, he loved lacrosse, but he was actually incredibly intelligent, which kind of pissed her off. It made her tutoring him a lot easier, but it also made it impossible to hold him in the contempt Lydia had carried against him since the second grade. 

As if that wasn’t enough, he was also a genuinely nice person. Sarcastic at times, but he really did care about people and showed them that he did. What was his deal? 

On one hand, Lydia was relieved and maybe a little bit intrigued that he wasn’t who she thought he was- the real Stiles was much better than the fictional Stiles that she’d hated for years. At the same time, it made it so that she couldn’t just shove him into a box, close it up, and go on with her life. She actually wanted to get to know him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Malia, Stiles is here to pick you up!”

Ms. Tate turned back around to smile at Stiles, her back to the stairs. He grinned back, albeit a little weakly. Malia’s parents always made him a bit nervous, although he wasn’t quite sure why. 

Looking up, he saw Malia making her way down the stairs, wearing a pretty sundress and some high heeled sandals with straps that wrapped around her calfs. Offering her his arm, she took it, and after a quick goodbye to her parents, they headed out. Once the door had closed behind them, Malia turned to Stiles, arms folded across her chest. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?”

Stiles grinned. “They’re playing the new Avengers movie down at the mall and I thought we could go see it, and then maybe grab a bite at Paradise Steak and Grill.”

Malia sighed loudly, and the smile melted off Stiles’ face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, suddenly wishing that he was curled up in his bed with the new episode of Game of Thrones.

“Stiles, honestly, do you think I’m five? A _superhero_ movie?” Malia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh.” he swallowed his disappointment and tried again. “What about the restaurant?”

“Whatever, fine.” she said, and as they got into his jeep, he could have sworn he heard her mutter that Jackson had a porsche.

It hadn’t always been like this with Malia. Before they started dating, she always had a smile ready for Stiles, and loved to spend days at the beach or go hiking with him and the rest of their friends. In the last year, however, it was like her personality had done a 180. She still was fun to be around- when they were with friends, not together. She could be sullen and bored with him one moment and bright and bubbly the next, and it was confusing. 

She was his first girlfriend, and he’d lost his virginity to her, but lately it seemed like she was a different person. _Or,_ the voice in the back of his mind whispered, _maybe she’s just showing you the person she always was, the one who made Lydia so scared of her retribution she was on the verge of tears._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They pulled up at the restaurant, which was surprisingly empty for a Saturday night. The waitress led them to a table for two, handing them menus before going to take care of another table. 

Malia stood up, grabbing her purse. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back.” she said, walking away before Stiles could even respond. He sighed and attacked a piece of bread from the basket the waitress had placed on their table. 

“Stiles!”

He turned around, and was happy to see Scott and Allison waving at him from a table not too far from his. Standing up, he walked over. 

“Hey! How’s it going?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at Scott as his friend turned bright red. 

“It’s going great,” Allison said, smiling at Scott. Stiles was surprised Scott didn’t swoon right then and there.

“Lydia told us you couldn’t come, but I didn’t know it was because you had a date with Malia!” Allison chirped happily, and Stiles felt a rock of guilt settle in his stomach. He’d completely forgotten that tonight was the night Lydia and him were going to chaperone/ cover for their mutual friends. 

“Speaking of Lydia, where is she?” he asked, trying not to let his guilt show, since it was clear Lydia had covered for him. Ally pointed across the room to the bar, where he could see a head of curly strawberry blond hair. He shifted from foot to foot, but it didn’t alleviate the guilt. “I’m gonna, uh, go say hi!” Stiles said, practically running over to Lydia.

As he got closer, he saw a half eaten steak in front of her, her right hand twirling a straw around in a glass of lemonade. She was absorbed in a book big enough to be the dictionary, but knowing Lydia, it was probably some sort of book on mathematical theories. 

“Hey,” he said, and Lydia looked up at him, smiling. 

“Hi! I told Scott and Allison that you couldn’t come because I just assumed you were running late, but they’re only 10 minutes into their date, so don’t worry, it doesn’t make that much difference.”

The rock in Stiles’ stomach got tighter as he realized that Lydia didn’t know he had completely forgotten, or that he was here with Malia. 

“Look, Lydia I-”

“I said it was fine. Here, finish this.” she said, pushing her steak at him. “I got too full on dessert.”

“You ate dessert first?”

Lydia shrugged. “I felt like mixing it up and the cheesecake looked so-” her voice cut short and her eyes widened slightly at something behind him. Whipping around, he saw Malia returning from the bathroom and taking her seat at their table.

He opened his mouth to speak as her eyes flicked back and forth between him and Malia and understanding dawned on her face. 

“Lydia, I’m sorry I totally-”

Her face was buried in the book once again. “It’s whatever, Stiles. I guess I misunderstood or something. Have fun on your date.” When she spoke, her voice was a monotone, carefully controlled, but beneath that Stiles could feel the anger and maybe even a bit of hurt.

“No, I just forgot, I’m sorry-”

She looked up at him critically. “I’m sure you are. Just go back to your girlfriend before she finds a bowl of soup or something to throw at me.”

He hesitated, because he really was sorry, and he didn’t have the words to tell her that he’d rather be spending the evening spying on Scott and Allison and talking with her than conversing stiffly with Malia. She looked up once more.

“I said _go_ , Stiles.”

And he did, but his eyes and his thoughts stayed on her the entire meal.


	6. i don't wanna miss a single thing you do tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V(=^･ω･^=)v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi buttercups!! another chapter down, about 20 to go. sorry for the delay in getting this one up, I was really busy with back to school shopping, since school starts on monday for me. i'll try to update on friday or saturday, but you won't hear from me at all sunday (one direction concert!) or monday (first day of school ;_;)
> 
> chapter title is from "hey soul sister" by train.
> 
> reviews and comments motivate me to write faster and bring a huge smile to my face, and as always, you can reach me at katherlnepierce.tumblr.com!

When Stiles shows up on at their next tutoring session with a pizza from Lydia’s favorite Italian place, the newest Marvel movie on dvd, and an apology on his lips, Lydia forgives him.

Maybe she’s getting too soft, but Stiles looked like a kicked puppy when she opened the door, not to mention the fact that she’s a total sucker for pizza, so in the end they fall back into their normal pattern, last Friday’s incident forgotten.

They’re halfway through one of the more difficult problems in the textbook when Stiles phone lights up, quickly followed by Lydia’s. At the same time, they read the texts from their respected best friends that bear the news that Scott and Allison are now officially boyfriend and girlfriend. They don’t study for the rest of the evening after that, and Lydia feels a bit guilty for not doing her job, but she supposes that you really can’t blame them. Stiles demands they celebrate with ice cream, leading to him digging out every single flavor Lydia has in her fridge and building them a sundae so large that he has to use a salad bowl. 

Stiles teaches him how to play pool using the table in her game room, and Lydia almost snaps one of the pool sticks over her leg in frustration when she loses their third game in a row.  
“I don’t understand!” she yells, waving the stick around her head like a madwoman while Stiles doubles over from laughing. “It’s basic geometry, you just measure the angles and aim, how are you beating me?!” By now, Stiles is rolling around on the ground and she thinks that there are actual tears of mirth leaking out of his eyes. “Oh for the love of god, shut _up_ , Stilinski.”  
Stiles springs up, raising his hands in the air and doing victory laps around the room that Lydia can’t help but laugh at. Gripping the pool stick tighter, she points it at him like a sword.  
“One more round. And this time, I will _trash_ you.”

She loses, but she doesn’t mind. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scott has been eating with Allison for over three weeks now, and where Scott goes is somewhere Stiles is content to follow.

At first, it was more of a favor to his best friend, a your-ass-owes-my-ass sort of thing, but ever since Lydia started tutoring him, Stiles is enjoying eating at her and Allison’s lunch table. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac always join them as well, although Malia seems to absolutely loathe sitting there and rarely does, opting instead to eat with Jackson and some random cheerleaders and lacrosse players, something Stiles surprises himself by realizing he doesn’t mind in the least. 

Erica is recounting how on the first day of school she gave no less than three freshmen boners when Malia appears, sliding in next to Stiles and unwrapping her ham sandwich with a pissed off expression. He can’t help but notice how when she sees her, Lydia freezes mid-snort at Erica’s story, looking down and suddenly becoming extremely interested in the grilled cheese in front of her. 

Once Erica has finished, Malia speaks, opening her protein shake to take a sip.  
“Stiles, prom is in six weeks.”  
He looks up from his hamburger, wiping the excess ketchup off his face.  
“So?”  
“So, we’re running for prom king and queen, right? I mean, we both know the voting is just a formality- we’re shoo-ins, but I think it would look good if we put up some posters or something.”  
From the other end of the table, Erica laughs. Malia leans over and makes eye contact with the blonde, raising an eyebrow.  
“I’m sorry, is something funny?”  
Erica laughs again, taking a loud slurp of her smoothie before speaking.  
“I’m running for prom queen too, I told you last week, so you’re not exactly a ‘shoo in’.” Erica answers, making air quotations. Malia laughs out loud.  
“Oh, you were being serious about running? Whatever, it’s fine. I guess its good for you to run, it’ll help your attention complex and make it at least look like I actually have some competition.”  
By now, Erica’s left eye is twitching, and she slams her smoothie down on the table, and adopting a mocking face and tone before continuing.  
“Forgive me, Mistress Malia, for thinking that the student body might actually want to elect someone likable.”  
“Really? Like any in their right mind would vote for you, fucking epileptic-”  
Erica is opening her mouth to fire back a report, her face going the odd shade of red it does when anyone mentions her epilepsy (even though Stiles knows that because of her new medication, Erica hasn’t had an attack since 9th grade, its still an extremely sore spot), when Lydia opens her mouth.  
“I’d vote for you, Erica.”

It’s obvious what Lydia is trying to do- keep the peace and prevent a conflict, although Stiles has no doubt that Lydia actually would vote for Erica, who Stiles found out that she used to tutor in History, back in 10th.

Malia’s head swivels towards Lydia with alarming speed, and she narrows her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, did I ask your opinion?”

The table has fallen into an eerie silence, everyone waiting to see what happens next. Stiles watches as Lydia takes a shaky breath before answering.

“No, I was talking to Erica.” She smiles at the blonde girl, although nervously. “About the fact that the student body should elect someone that’s actually likable this year.”

Malia’s face gives off her shock that Lydia even talked back to her, before returning to her smirk.

“Shut the fuck up, you nasty little pimple. You think anybody even cares what you think? Go stick your ugly little face back into your books where it belongs, or you’ll regret it.”

Malia widens her eyes like she’s made a sudden discovery. 

“Actually, I’ll make sure you regret it now.”

With that, she unscrews the lid off her pink protein shake and dumps the entire thing on Lydia’s shirt.

The table explodes into chaos as Allison and Erica practically throw themselves at Malia and are promptly restrained by their friends to keep them from actually killing the girl. Allison, at least, is able to punch Malia in her right eye before Scott pulls her back, eyes shooting daggers at Malia, while it take both Boyd and Isaac to restrain Erica, who is screaming obscenities that Stiles hasn’t ever even heard before. He looks away from the chaos in time to see a flash of strawberry blond hair disappear out of the cafeteria. 

He turns to Malia, whose hand is cupping her reddening eye, and looks her full in the face. “I’m not going to be running for prom king with you, Malia, and if I were you, I’d save myself the embarrassment of running at all. Lydia and Erica are right. I hope someone likable wins this year.” He looks away from her, shaking his head, only to look up and see the lunch monitors rapidly making their way across the hall towards them. 

“I’m gonna go find Lydia.” He says to his friends, and manages to scamper away right before the vulture-like lunch monitors descend on the mess that is their lunch table. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lydia slams the door to the chemistry lab behind her, the noise echoing throughout the room as the door closes. Looking up, she’s relieved to see that no one is there, and she makes her way over to one of the sinks.

She’s making these weird little hiccuping sobs, and she wants to punch something, mad that Malia isn’t there so she can’t sink her fist into her stupid, stupid face.

Picking up one of the table sponges and soaking it in water, she scrubs futilely at her sweater, the navy one with the white hearts dotted all over it. The hearts are ruined from the splash of the pink drink, and Lydia doubts that it’ll come out, although that’s not what she really cares about. Sitting on the ground, she wraps her arms around herself, frantically swiping at the hot tears that won’t stop coming. She’s tired of always being the butt of Malia’s joke, tired of being the loser nerd girl, and the shiny Fields Medal feels too fucking far away.

The door to the classroom swings open, and Lydia curls in on herself, silently praying that whoever has entered the classroom doesn’t notice her. 

“Lydia?”

She looks up at the sound of Stiles voice, and they make eye contact. He walks across the room, sliding down next to her, pulling her towards him.  
Lydia doesn’t hesitate for a second before sobbing into his hoodie as he pets her hair in a way that’s oddly comforting, his fingers running towards through the curls.

It’s a long time before he talks.

“I’m not running with her.”

Lydia sniffles and looks up, wiping at her red eyes. “What?”

“I said I”m not running for prom with Malia. I don’t even know if I’m dating her anymore.” 

All of a sudden, Lydia finds the tile very interesting. 

“She has a black eye now, I don’t know if you saw. Allison packs a mean punch.”

She looks up, a surprised peal of laughter ringing out. “Allison punched Malia for me?”

He nods, unzipping his hoodie and handing it to her. “Here. To wear over the, uh, stain.”

“Won’t you be cold?” Lydia asks, her hands betraying her by taking the jacket and putting it on.

“Nah, got another in my car.”

“You’re a really good guy, Stiles.”

He puts his hand over his heart and fakes swoons. “Did the amazing Lydia Martin just compliment me? Am I dreaming?”

She looks up at him and laughs, thinking that she just might be starting to see the real Stiles Stilinski. Not the jock, not the student president, not even the sarcastic ball of nerves, but the one that is her friend.


	7. it's just you and me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (/•ิ_•ิ)/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again, my lovely readers!
> 
> i'm sorry about the update delay, I've been really busy with back to school, but I promise I'll still update at least twice a week if not more once i can get back into the swing of things. 
> 
> chapter title is from the song "ships in the night" by mat kearney. it's one of my favorite songs, so you should go have a listen.
> 
> as always, your comments and reviews make me update faster and i love to hear from you! talk to me personally at katherlnepierce.tumblr.com!

Malia shows up to school the next day with a black eye, poorly hidden by a concealer that doesn’t quite do the trick. Lydia laughs into her locker as she pulls out her textbooks, and hugs Allison tighter than usual when she sees her. 

Sometimes, Lydia can’t even think of a word for what Allison is to her, a ray of sunshine that broke though her armor and fog of loneliness. Lydia’s never had a best friend before, much less a best friend who would punch someone in the face to defend her honor. They’re walking through the courtyard, Lydia towards her math class, and Allison to science, when the her friend mentions that she has detention that night. 

“What?! You, detention?” Lydia almost gasps, looking at her and wondering what sort of teacher could possibly give Allison’s smiling face a detention.

Ally looks down, laughing. “Not a detention. I have them for the rest of the week.” She shrugs, and winks at Lydia. “Seeing Malia’s eye go purple and red makes it worth it, don’t worry.”

Lydia’s mouth drops open when she realizes that Allison has a week’s worth of detentions that are all Lydia’s fault, and Ally spends the rest of the walk to their classes assuring Lydia that she’d do it again, no matter the consequences. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles runs into the room just as the bell rings, and practically throws himself into a desk as Ms. Abrams enters the room right on his heels. 

“Don’t even bother. Stiles, that’s your third tardy this semester, you need to watch it. Alright! I’m passing out yesterday’s tests now, and failing grades need to be signed and returned to me by tomorrow.”

Stiles stops dead in the middle of his long winded explanation for his lateness, the icy grip of anxiety settling in his chest. He and Lydia had put extra tutoring hours in for this test, which would determine whether of not he could stay a member of the lacrosse team. Whipping his head around, he made eye contact with Lydia sitting in the desk behind him. Upon seeing his panicked expression, she laughed. Stiles pouted in response.

“Hey! Wipe the whine off your face, I’m laughing because Ms. Abrams told me that you did great. She still wants me to tutor you until she thinks you can be proficient on your own but-”

Lydia’s voice was cut off as Stiles bolted over to Ms. Abrams desk the moment she uttered the word great. On his way, he tripped over a desk and, flailing, fell right in front of their math teachers desk. Scrambling up, he pulls himself into a standing position as he makes eye contact with his teacher’s judgmental gaze. She sighs loudly, handing him his test. 

“Good job Mr. Stilinski, although I fear I might as well just thank Lydia Martin for your success.”

Stiles looks down at the paper, and sees a bright red B+.

Letting out a whoop, he bounds over to Lydia, shoving his test in her face excitedly, all while chanting one of the songs the cheerleading squad yells at their lacrosse games.   
She stands up, her face pink with excitement, and Stiles can’t help but pick her up and spin her around, hugging her all the while. When he finally sets her down, Lydia’s laughing and her red curls have fallen out of her usual ponytail. Stiles’ heart squeezes up in a funny way, and he barely has time to think, _shit what was that am i about to have a heart attack_ , before Ms. Abrams tells them to settle down. 

“I trust I don’t need to remind you both that Mr. Stilinski still has a long way to go before he can pass my class, and that you’ll have to continue your tutoring?”

Nodding in acknowledgement, Stiles’ shoots Lydia a shit-eating grin before they head over to their seats and pull out their textbooks. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tutoring that night is at Stiles’ house, but Lydia doesn’t know if they can even call it that. Stiles’ insists that they celebrate with a carb fest, and somehow Lydia ends up on the floor of his room with her mouth full of pasta, trashing Stiles’ at Mario Kart.

“This is so wrong. This is so fucked up.” he whispers in disbelief as she knocks him off the Rainbow Road for the third time that night. 

“I AM THE CHAMPION, MY FRIEND-” Lydia begins singing in his ear, before he stuffs a piece of bread in her mouth to muffle her. 

“Are you sure this is the first time you’ve ever played a video game?” Stiles repeats, his evident shock written all over his face. 

“Well, we have a pinball machine in our game room, if that counts,” she suggests, and Stiles just turns and blinks that her for a second. 

“Oh my god. I literally feel like I’ve lost my identity. I am the Mario Kart king. My dignity is in shambles. How will I ever pick up the pieces?!” he responds dramatically, flopping on her.

She shrieks in mock terror and pushes him off, clutching her belly and laughing. He raises both eyebrows (he still can’t raise only one, goddamn it) and she holds out her Wii remote like a weapon. 

“Stiles. If you start to tickle me, I might actually have to murder you.” 

He shrugs and makes a running leap for her, at which she screams and scrambles onto his bed, grabbing a pillow to beat him off. Stiles tackles her and they roll back and forth on the bed, him tickling her as she fights to get him off. Finally her knee finds his stomach and she hops off the bed and is almost able to make a run for it, laughing and yelling something about how Stiles will never take her alive, before she collides with someone standing in the doorway.

More specifically, Sheriff Stilinski.

They both fall silent at once, and Lydia wants to sink into the floor and disappear. What if he thinks they’re hooking up? Or that Lydia isn’t a responsible tutor? What if he calls the school and asks Ms. Abrams to get Stiles a new-

“Dad, this isn’t what it looks like.”

The Sheriff raises one eyebrow (stiles is beginning to wonder if everyone in the world can raise one eyebrow but him) before speaking. 

“Really? Because it looks like you’re celebrating that B+ taped to the fridge."

“Actually, that’s exactly what it looks like.” Stiles answers, pointing at Lydia. “Dad, this is my tuto-, I mean, my friend Lydia. Lydia, Dad.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” the Sheriff says, shaking her hand, and Lydia responds with the same.

“I’ll leave you kids to it. I have to be on call early tomorrow, so goodnight.”

He walks out of the room, and waits until he’s halfway down the hall to yell back.

“You didn’t tell me you liked her!”

The Sheriff smiles as he hears Stiles' loud groan of embarrassment, even at the other end of the hall.


	8. We fall in love 'til it hurts or bleeds or fades in time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (✿ ♥‿♥)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay first of all, let me say, I am really, reaLLY SORRY for my radio silence. I got carried away with getting back into school, activities, and a bunch of other things, but I really am sorry and updates will definitely be more frequent from here on out. I really appreciated all the people messaging me on tumblr begging for the new chapter, it made me feel wanted and loved.
> 
> title song is from state of grace by taylor swift, which is pretty much my favorite song ever 
> 
> don't forget to leave comments and reviews, they keep me motivated! this is the shortest chapter yet but it needed to be short because a. lots of shit goes down in this chapter and b. the next chapter is over 2,000 words. 
> 
> come talk to me at katherlnepierce.tumblr.com!

Stiles pulls out his phone to check it for the hundredth time that day, shoving it back into his pocket with a sigh. He and Malia haven’t talked since the smoothie incident 3 days earlier, and it’s leaving him with a twisty feeling in his gut, sort of like that time he got food poisoning. _Although technically this is emotional food poisoning,_ he thinks. 

He’s not quite sure where they stand- most of him doesn’t want to be with Malia at all anymore, and some other part of him remembers when they first started dating, how he lost his virginity to her, and how he feels like he at least owes it to her to have them talk whatever this is out face to face. 

He has math next period, and Stiles has a brief heart attack when he can’t find last night’s homework in his backpack, before calming down when he remembers leaving it in the locker room after their early practice this morning. No one will be in there, so he figures he’ll just slip in and out without even having to accumulate his fourth tardy of this month in Ms. Abram’s class. Stiles has pushed open the locker room door and is almost standing at his locker when he hears someone mutter, “Shit.” in what he’d pretty sure is Jackson’s voice. Looking around the next corner of lockers, his mouth drops open and his backpack clatters to the ground as he stares motionless, unable to look away from the car crash that his life has just become. 

Malia and Jackson are frozen and open mouthed, staring at Stiles like two deer caught in headlights. His eyes take in Malia’s smudged lipstick and Jackson’s rumpled hair. Their arms, previously wrapped around each other like octopuses, are slowing lowering to their sides, as if they think that no sudden movement will get them out of this. 

Stiles speaks first, and is ashamed of the way his voice cracks when he tries to spit the cold metal words out of his mouth. “W- What the fuck is going on here?”

It isn’t a question he really needs to ask, because he knows exactly what this is, and from the looks on Malia and Jackson’s faces, this isn’t the first time this has happened between them. Malia starts towards Stiles, hesitant but not exactly regretful.

“Stiles, I’m so sorry, I know I should have told you I just-”

Everything in Stiles’ brain kicks into high gear, and all of a sudden, time starts again. “You’re sorry? _You’re sorry?_ Yeah Malia, I’m totally sure you feel so bad about this. How long has this,” he uses both arms to indicate them, his face a mask of disgust, “been going on? Didn’t we mean _something_ to you? Couldn’t you at least have the decency to break up with me instead of cheating behind my back when I trusted you?!”

“Stiles I-”

“No.” He cuts her off, his expression as harsh and unforgiving as stone. “You don’t get to talk. Fuck both of you. I hope you’re happy together.”

He swings his backpack on and walks out of the locker room, out of school, and into his car before he notices that his eyes are wet and his throat feels scratchy, like it always does before he cries. Laying his head against the steer wheel, he allows himself a moment of anguish (he’d thought she’d loved him, he thought that they meant something to each other, he thought it might end sooner rather than later but that they could still be friends) before punching his dashboard in anger, hissing at the pain. 

Putting his car in reverse, he turns and drives out of school, all the way to the Beacon Hills cemetery. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s always thought that his mom’s gravestone was like her- while every other headstone in the graveyard was white or gray or black or brown, they’d picked some plain polished marble for it, and every single year on the anniversary of her death, Stiles and his dad would come down and paint it in a shade that represented that year. The first color of the paint has been a sober navy, but as the years went by, the colors grew brighter. The one they’d chosen this summer was a spring green, and he leans against it for the rest of the day.

It’s probably about four in the afternoon, and Stiles has been staring at his hands for over three hours, when he hears soft footsteps and looks over to see Lydia lowering herself to the ground next to him. She puts out her hand, and he takes it, warmth coursing through their fingers. They sit in silence, but somehow thats enough for them, at least today. _It feels safe,_ Stiles thinks. _It feels healing._

Soon, Scott and Allison and Erica and Boyd and Isaac show up, they all come and silently sit together, holding hands in a semi circle around his mom’s grave. They sit in silence, and Stiles has a weird feeling in his chest, despite all that happened today, that this is the start of something good, and right, and real.


End file.
